Poems (Eckley)/The Path

by Sophia May Eckley

THE PATH. 

"Are they not all ministering spirits?" TO H. B. S.

HERE is a path, whose radiant trail Unwinds from worlds supreme,And up and down the noiseless feet Pass as in Jacob's dream.

To some a golden street it seems, To some a silver thread;Alas! to most, a long dark bridge Swung o'er a sea of dead.

To me how dear that shining path, Adown whose glittering way,I see the loved, the shadowy forms Of those who've passed away.

Their shining garments as they float, Gild the dim earthly air;I see the radiance of their crowns, I breathe the palms they bear.

Florence, 1861.